It's Time for Change
by TeaTonite
Summary: What if the Master had never died on board the Valiant? What if the Doctor was able to take the Master back to the TARDIS to travel with him? 10thDoctor/SimmMaster Possibly an OC later in story.
1. Chapter 1

"You mean your just gonna... _keep me_?"

The Doctor nodded his head. "If that's what I have to do." He rotated his body and directed his next words at Captain Jack. "It's time for change." A pause. "Maybe I've been wandering for too long. Now I've got someone to care for." His brown eyes looked over at the Master, who wore a face of horror and disgust.

Martha Jones watched the scene unfold in disbelief. After all the Master had done, to her, to her family, to the entire planet, the Doctor was going to take him home like a stray dog. And maybe that was why, as she was comforting her mother, she did not mention the fact that Lucy Saxon was holding a gun pointed at the Master's torso. She wanted the woman to pull the trigger, to end the man that had caused her so much grief and pain. But someone else had noticed, too.

Jack was at Lucy's side in an instant, and grabbed the gun out of her hand before she had a chance to pull the trigger. No matter how much he wanted the Master to be dead and gone, he knew it would upset the Doctor, and that was the last thing he wanted.

* * *

Getting the Master into the TARDIS proved to be an immense struggle. Though handcuffed, the Time Lord was still stronger than most humans his size, and even those a bit bigger than himself.

"Don't hurt him!" The Doctor ordered as he and Jack were holding onto both of his arms, trying to escort him into the doors of the blue box. The wriggling Time Lord glared so fiercely at the Doctor when he said these words that taller Time Lord was forced to look away.

Finally, the Captain grew tired of the game.

A large fist came flying directly at the Master's cheek, but he saw it last second and attempted to duck. Unfortunately he was not fast enough and Jack's fist hit him straight in the temple. He crumpled to the ground as Jack shook out his hand. The Doctor glared at him, but did not make a comment. He knew the Master deserved it, and if anyone had a right to plant a fist in his face, it was certainly the man he had tortured for a year.

Martha wanted to smirk as the wicked man's body hit the ground, but she could not bring herself to do it. Her expression was locked in a permanent glare, and it felt as if she could never find the key. Her family stood closely by her side, and all she wanted to do was comfort them somewhere safe, somewhere away from the wretched Master, but it would have to wait. She had to say goodbye to the Doctor, her Doctor. After the Year that Never Was she had realized the true cost of traveling with him, and her family needed her now more than ever. Well, and the _tiny_ thing about how he completely ignored the feelings she felt for him. Yeah, that too.

The Doctor grabbed the unconscious Master under the armpits while Jack grabbed his legs. Together, they carried him through the TARDIS doors and passed through the console room, down a hallway filled with plain looking doors.

"This one." The Doctor nodded his head towards a door on the left. He let the Master sag a small amount as he let go of him to twist the doorknob. The room was nothing special. A queen sized bed with white comforters and white pillows, soft grey carpet, a desk, a dresser with four drawers. The only thing it was lacking was a window. Other than that, it looked perfectly normal. Not something one would expect to be holding an alien who had just taken over the Earth using mind control and then proceeded to kill off one-tenth of the human population.

They dumped the new prisoner on the bed silently. He was still unconscious.

The Doctor followed Jack out of the room, and shut the door behind him. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and locked the door, preventing any means of escape. They walked back into the console room and found Martha and her family waiting there for them.

* * *

The flight home had happened without a snag. The Doctor knew it was not the time for too much excitement, so he was careful to guide the TARDIS along smoothly and without any hitches or bumps. The Jones family were looking around in amazement. They had never been in the police box before, but they dared not to touch anything. Martha still had a cold look on her face, and she was starring in the direction of the room the Master was in. Hatred glinted in her eyes for what he did to her family, what he did to the world.

There was silence when the TARDIS landed. Jack nodded once at the Doctor and then left without another word. He needed to get back to his team. They needed him. And, well, he needed them too.

Tish, Francine, and Clive were quick to depart as well, but they didn't even glance back at the man who had piloted the spaceship. They slipped out the door as quickly as they could, holding onto each other. Martha watched them scurry away, and the glint of hatred in her eyes was replaced with one of pure sadness.

The Doctor looked at her, mirroring her expression.

She began to speak. "Doctor, I can't..."

He held up his hand. "I know." There was a short pause, and his face cracked into a smile. "Martha Jones, it has been... brilliant."

She smiled as well, and embraced the skinny man in a tight hug. She pulled away from him and took her mobile out of her pocket, placing it in his hand. "Don't think this is goodbye. You better come running when that phone rings."

The Doctor smiled even wider in return, nodding his head. "I will."

Another tight hug was shared, but this time it was interrupted when they both heard a loud crash coming from down the TARDIS hallway. Obviously, the Master had woken up and was doing his best to make as much pandemonium as possible.

Martha quickly pulled herself away from the tall Time Lord, gave him one last forced smile, and walked out of the doors without looking back.

The Doctor was left alone. The Master had now taken up screaming as well as kicking things around, and it was the only other sound besides the low humming of the blue box. He flicked a few switches and pulled a lever. The TARDIS heaved sideways, throwing him across the control room, and at the same moment he heard curses screamed from down the hallway.


	2. Chapter 2

After getting the TARDIS steady and parked in stasis around Earth's orbit, the Doctor decided it was finally time to check in with his new companion. He walked down the hallway quietly and pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, unlocking the door leading into the Master's room.

It was a mess. The dresser had been kicked over and its contents were spread across the soft grey carpet. The desk drawers, which had contained several pencils and a few pads of paper, were also spread across the floor, the paper ripped apart in many places. How the other Time Lord had managed to do so much damage in such a small amount of time using only his feet was a mystery. The culprit of the destruction was sitting up on his bed, his back against the wooden headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him. He was glaring intensely at his captor. He, quite literally, would rather be dead than sitting there in that room, trapped like a pest in a cage.

The Doctor only looked at him for a few moments with a facial expression of... Was that _pity_? The Master got an overwhelming desire to spit directly at the taller man, but he was standing too far away.

It was pure silence as they both looked at each other, one with an expression of pity and the other with an expression of hate. Then the Doctor spoke.

"Are you comfortable?" His voice was quiet and soft, the way someone would talk to a nervous child. And perhaps that was how the Doctor thought of the Master at the moment, a nervous and shy child. Well, one filled with loathing, anyway.

The Master scoffed over dramatically. "Am I _comfortable_? It that _really_ the best thing you have to say to me, as I sit here, in handcuffs, as your prisoner?" His voice was laced with as much sarcasm and malice as he could find within himself to give up.

The Doctor opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off abruptly by the Master. "It was a rhetorical question, _Doctor_ ," he spat the last word out like venom, "You are not supposed to answer it. But, to answer _your_ question, no. I am not comfortable being your _pet_ , or being in handcuffs, or being trapped in your bloody TARDIS!" He had escalated to a scream by the end of the last sentence.

The Doctor did not respond. He only stood there, wearing a sad expression. He desperately wanted the Master to be happy. He wanted him to love being in the TARDIS, he wanted him to travel among the stars with him like so many human companions had done before. He wanted to have adventures beyond imagination with the other Time Lord. He wanted the Master to be happy, with him.

But alas, at that moment he most certainly was not. Instead he was a child, whining because he did not get what he wanted. Sadly, what he had wanted was world domination, and the Doctor couldn't just stand idly by and let that happen. It was his personal duty to protect the Earth, and the humans that resided there. He loved them with both of his hearts, and could not let anything happen to them. Not even for the Master. Now, though, was not the time to dwell on the past, even though the past was only about twenty minutes ago.

The Doctor thought for a few moments more, then responded. "I could take the handcuffs off, if you'd like."

The Master look confused by the very thought of the suggestion. Of course, that was not the reaction the Doctor was hoping for.

" _Why_? Why would you even consider such a thing? So I could get up and punch you in the gut? Strangle you, even? Push past you and escape? Why?" His voice held a slight hint of something, almost wistful. Like the Master would leap at the chance to do any number of those things, and more, to the Doctor, and like he was questioning the other man's sanity.

 _Because I_ want _you to be comfortable_ , was the thought that immediately went through the Doctor's head, but he decided against saying it out loud. Any outward feelings of affection towards the Master would certainly not be appropriate at the time. While the Doctor did want them to get along, he knew it was going to take time as well as patience to gain that ability.

"Well?" The Master's sharp tone snapped him out of his momentary train of thought.

The Doctor no longer had anything to say, so he stepped back out of the room and closed the door, locking it with his sonic screwdriver. The first confrontation had gone as expected, quite terribly, but it was not as bad as it could have been. He walked back into the console room, slowly, and sat down on the captain's chair. Thinking.

* * *

The Master heard quite clearly the buzz of the sonic screwdriver as it locked him into the room. He was alone, once again. His head was still throbbing from when he was punched by that filthy immortal human into unconsciousness. Thinking about how powerless he was passed out made him infuriated, and he wanted to destroy the prison he was being held in even more than he already had. He scooted off of the bed ungallantly and planted his feet firmly on the floor. As soon as the soles of his dress shoes touched the grey carpet all motivation to destroy something was lost. Instead he took off the shinning black shoes, using only his feet.

He began to slowly pace around the room, several lazy thoughts flowing through his mind as he placed one foot in front of the other. He knew he had been the victor in his last conversation with the Doctor. He had upset him, as well as gotten in the last word. _Every conversation with the Doctor is a battle_ , he thought, _and I must win all of them_.

He began to think feebly of ideas to escape, but he put no real effort into them. It was useless. Him and the Doctor were evenly matched intellectually.

 _If only darling Lucy had pulled that trigger in time_ , he thought with an exasperated sigh.


	3. Chapter 3

Several hours had passed since the first meeting between prisoner and warden. No further confrontation had occurred. Well, of course the Master had several things he would like to say to the Doctor, but the taller Time Lord was distancing himself quite well. Actually, he had been busy. The TARDIS was acting up, almost as if she was upset. He had been underneath the console, fidgeting with things, trying to fix her up. An upset TARDIS could result in some unpleasantries in the near future.

Fortunately, the Master had decided to keep quiet, no longer destroying the contents the Doctor had carefully planned out and put into his room. Yes, while he would not forwardly admit it, he had prepared the room in advance. Farther in advance than had to be mentioned.

The busy man had immersed himself in his work, blocking out all else as he cared for his TARDIS. It was soothing, not having to think about anything. Not having to deal with the pain that the last year he had spent with the Master caused him, much more so emotionally than physically. Not having to deal with the fact that his best friend had just left him, leaving him to deal with the other Time Lord alone, well, not that he minded that last bit. The Master had floated away from the Doctor's thoughts for awhile, at least, and it had been... Peaceful, without the stress of his forced companion locked away in the room down the hall. He was reminded of him when he heard a soft thud coming from that direction, followed by a loud stream of cursing. The Doctor sighed quietly and put away his toolkit, taking an over exaggerated amount of time to do so.

* * *

He opened the door silently and slid in sideways, closing it behind him. The Doctor felt his stomach drop when he did not see the Master in the room, but after looking to his left he realized that the Master was only sitting against the same wall that the door was on. Obviously, he had done it on purpose to give the Doctor that small jolt when he found the room to be empty. He could tell by the tiniest hint of a smirk that now resided upon the sitting Time Lord's face. The Doctor came to the conclusion that he had stubbed his toe.

He was in the same position he had been when he was leaning against the bed's headboard, his hands handcuffed behind his back and his legs stretched out and open in front of him. He was looking directly ahead at something the Doctor could not see, but apparently was very interesting since it required all of the Master's attention and he was not able to cast even a spare glance in the direction of the Doctor, who simply looked at the sitting man with same expression he had earlier... Pity.

"I don't want you here." The Master's voice was dull, emotionless, betraying nothing of his thoughts, but the Doctor had a pretty good guess as to what they were. He had not looked up from where he was staring at the wall.

"You haven't eaten since this morning, do you want something?" The Doctor asked the question casually, as if they were simple friends.

The Master finally looked up at him, his face still expressionless. "And how, Doctor, do you expect me to eat in _handcuffs_?" He put slight emphasis on the last word, moving his arms around a small amount.

Without saying anything the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and pressed the button, illuminating the Master's face with a blue light, causing him to squint slightly. The small _click_ of the bonds unlocking was the last sound the Doctor heard before slipping out of the room once again. He did not lock the door behind him.

* * *

He could have walked out if he had wanted to, the Master. But he didn't. What would be the point? He would still be emerging into a realm controlled by the Doctor. No, it was much easier to just stay inside the room.

He rubbed his sore wrists bitterly, cursing the name of his captor. He wished his overlord would have kept the dreadful things locked tightly around him, binding his arms behind his back. For some reason it felt better that way, some reason that he could not quite explain. He threw the handcuffs across the floor, and they landed with a soft _thud_. The Master's thoughts were interrupted by the re-entry of the Doctor, now carrying a plate with a sandwich on it as well as a slightly pleasant expression on his face, like he was happy about serving his prisoner. His _pet_.

Suddenly the Master had lost his appetite, and looked away from the other man, whose face fell when he saw the action. He had made the ham and cheese sandwich to the best of his abilities, and he had also wanted the Master to eat something. The Doctor realized that there was a large possibility of the Master trying starving himself. _No_ , he thought, _I can not allow that to happen. Not in my care._

Coincidentally, the same idea had come into the Master's mind as well. He could starve to himself to death, and be free of the hell he now had to live in. It had only been a few hours, and he was already hating the walls of the small room more than anything else in the Universe. He wanted some sort of variety, desperately. While he had just completely disregarded the thought of leaving the room a few moments before, the idea was seeming to grow to be much more tempting.

The Doctor set the platter down on the floor, near the Master's outstretched foot. He looked over at the Doctor's arm for a few moments as he made the fluent motion to put it on the ground, but his eyes quickly snapped back to their set spot on the wall. He thought the Doctor's body was going to follow, seating itself on the ground next to the platter, but he did not and the Master was glad. He did not want the Doctor near him, not now. Not ever. He hated the man. Despised him. He was forcing him to live as a prisoner, but was not treating him like one. He was treating him like a guest. Suddenly the Master wanted to be locked up in a cage, a real cage. Metal bars, metal door, the entire package. He wanted to be fed disgusting food, not the rather good looking sandwich he had just been brought.

The Doctor was just about to order the Master to eat when he reached over and grabbed the food himself, taking a bite out of the corner of it and chewing slowly and without expression. The taller Time Lord had to hold himself back from smiling at the sight. He had thought he was going to have to force feed the other man, but obviously that was not the case. Before anything further could happen, the Doctor left the room, giving one last backwards glance to the Master, but he was not looking.

Now, the Doctor had a goal. He wanted to end every encounter on a positive note, not pushing anything too far, and that was why he had left. The Master had eaten, and that was excellent. Now he did not have to worry about him starving to death. He allowed himself a smile as he walked back into the TARDIS console room to continue tinkering with his vehicle, and a feeble thought of the Master helping him drifted into his head.

Boys and their toys.

* * *

 _Hello everyone! I know I have not made an Authors Note until now, but I just wanted to say thank you for the few reviews I have received so far. I post chapters much faster when I get some feedback from readers so I know they are interested. Keep them coming, I really appreciate it!_


	4. Chapter 4

So what if it had been one of the best sandwiches he had ever tasted? The Master was not about to start calling like a dog for another one. No, instead he would wait for the Doctor to return. Pity, he had neglected to bring him anything to drink, but again, he was not about to call like a dog for it.

Though, the Doctor had also neglected to lock the door on his way out.

 _I could get up and leave,_ he thought with a hint of wistfulness. He could leave the room, yes, but he was now imprisoned inside of the TARDIS and there would be no escaping. Trapped, forever, with the only other member of his race. The one man he hated more than anything. At least, that was what the Master told himself. A small part of him wanted to be with the Doctor, wanted to travel with him and see the Universe... _No,_ he told himself quietly.

"No." This time he had to say it out loud, had to force the poisoned thoughts out of his mind. He would not want the friendship of the Doctor, he would certainly not want the compassion of the Doctor, and he would not want the attention of the Doctor. Well, really it was already too late for the last one. The Doctor was already giving him too much attention. Taking off the handcuffs, making him food, it was too much.

But still the small voice existed in the back of his head, almost covered by the drumming, but it was there. Whispering that he liked the attention he was getting from the Doctor. That he wanted to stay in the TARDIS with him, but not as a prisoner. As a friend.

"No!" He almost screamed the word, but was able to lower his voice at the last second. He did not want to Doctor coming in and investigating.

The door opened three seconds later.

 _Damn._

"What? What happened?" He looked genuinely concerned for the Master, who thought he could still detect that bit of pity in the Doctor's voice. In reality it wasn't there, but in the scrambled mind of the Master, it was very real.

"Nothing, Doctor." He did not make eye contact with him, instead found the spot he had starred at earlier and fixed his swampy brown eyes there again. "Go back to doing whatever it was you were busying yourself with." His voice sounded uncaring, indifferent. It took an immense amount of effort for him not to get angry and try to strangle the other man. Because oh yes, he wanted to. Badly. He wanted to kill the Doctor for making him long for the comfort of friendship.

Suddenly the Master remembered he was parched.

Finally he looked over and made eye contact with the Doctor. "Get me something to drink, will you?"

The look on the opposite man's face made the Master want to groan with agony. He had smiled widely like a child getting candy, and a giddy giggle leaked past his perfectly white teeth and as he swept out of the room without bothering to close the door. This time the Master really did point his head towards the ceiling and over dramatically groaned.

"Oh, and Doctor?" The Master called out, making himself cringe at the words.

"Yes?" The Doctor said as he popped his head through the doorway once again, that stupid smile still plastered on his face.

"Anything but tea."

* * *

The Doctor returned with two glasses in his hands. One was obviously just water, but the other was something carbonated with a light yellow twinge.

"I didn't know what you would want so I brought" He was cut off immediately as the Master stood up and took the glass filled with carbonated liquid, dumping it into his mouth without hesitation.

He then made a sound of great disgust. "Uuhc, what is this?" His facial features were contorted as he moved his tongue around in his mouth, trying to get rid of the unpleasantness he had just put there. He forced the glass he was holding back into the hand of the Doctor and took the water, though this time he smelled it to make sure it wasn't something appalling before pouring it down his throat.

The Doctor was laughing.

 _Of course he is,_ the Master thought as he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his blazer. The glass was two-thirds gone.

"Ginger Ale," The Doctor said, a smile still on his face as he took a drink of the liquid himself. "I rather like it, actually."

Suddenly the Master moved so he was standing at the foot of the bed, still facing the Doctor. His face was completely indifferent, while the other man was still holding a small smile. In one fluent motion the Master threw the glass of water, one-third full, directly at the Doctor's head. He ducked in time, but unfortunately as the glass soared above him the water had rained down and soaked his entire head. The glass shattered loudly.

The Master fell backwards on to the bed, his arms outstretched as he did so. He stared up at the celling without saying anything else. The Doctor was upset. He had thought they were getting somewhere.

 _You're acting like a fool,_ he chastised himself silently as he looked down at the carpeted floor. _How could you think he was happy, even for a moment, trapped here like this?_ The Doctor realized that while he had laughed at the Master for hating the taste of Ginger Ale, he had actually been genuinely uncomfortable. _And I had laughed,_ he thought, a wave of guilt sweeping over him. He felt sincerely awful.

The Doctor looked back up at the Master, who was still lying on the bed with his arms outstretched, staring at the ceiling, his face blank. The Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets and walked away, leaving the door wide open once again. He did not notice that the Master had lifted his own head to watch him walk out of the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Six hours. It had been six hours since the Master had first arrived in the TARDIS, but it felt like six weeks. The Doctor had taken a substantial amount of time to dry his hair, but still had a damp suit. Solemnly he wished that Martha were still with him, with her witty remarks and smiling face, but whisked the thought away. She could not be in the TARDIS with the Master. No, the Doctor had chosen the Master, and that decision was final. Even if he had preferred Martha, where would the Master have gone otherwise?

* * *

Minutes dragged by slowly. Two Time Lords were silently in the spaceship, one sitting in a captain's chair with reading glasses on and the other laying on a bed with his arms outstretched, staring at the ceiling. Both wished things were different.

Five more hours passed before either of them made a move. It was the Doctor. While he was still feeling awful about himself for keeping his best friend prisoner against his will, he knew he still held the responsibility of feeding the Master, even though he had left the door wide open and the other man was perfectly capable of walking into the kitchen and preparing something himself, but of course he would not do that. Not now. He still felt trapped in the small room, even with the door standing ajar and letting in a small draft.

When the Doctor walked into the room with a plate of fish and chips, the Master was curled up under the comforter of the bed, sleeping. His eyes snapped open as soon as he heard the Doctor setting down the plate on the nightstand.

They made eye contact, but neither of them moved for several seconds. Finally the Master sat up, looking away from the Doctor, but did not make a motion towards the food that had been brought to him.

The Doctor thought about snatching up a chip, as he had not eaten himself, but quickly came to the conclusion that it would not be appropriate in the situation. Instead he stared intently at the Master, waiting for him to do something that would send a signal to the Doctor about what he should do next.

No signal came. He only stared straight ahead of him, sitting up rigidly. After a few moments he leaned his back against the headboard, and that was the last notable movement he made before taking in a shuddering breath and closing his eyes lightly. The Doctor left the room, this time closing the door behind him.

* * *

The Master had grabbed the food off of the table as soon as the door clicked shut. It didn't taste awful, but was certainly not comparable to the sandwiches the Doctor had made earlier. It was gone quickly, and after several minutes of staring at the closed door he became bored. It truly was terrible, being locked in a TARDIS with the most unbearable man in existence. Still, he was glad it was the Doctor and not anyone else.

The Master once again pulled the white comforter over himself and lay his head on the soft pillows. Though, after a few moments he threw the fabric off and took off his black dress shoes before covering himself once again, this time closing his eyes and trying to fall asleep. Sleep was a blissful escape from the world he was living in, even if he could still hear the drums beating in his dreams. Anything was better than his current reality.

 _Click._

The door opened once again, and the Master flicked open his eyes, but did not move. He heard a chair dragging across the floor to the side of the bed, and the Doctor sat down facing the Master's back.

 _Why?_ Was the only word the Master could think. Why would the Doctor come in and sit so close to him, like a guard? The Master lay silently in the bed, and a sudden urge to throw up overwhelmed him.

He felt sick with himself. For being a prisoner. For failing to conquer the Earth. It was a dreadful feeling, and he wanted it to stop immediately. He had not felt something of the sort for a very long time. He heard the Doctor stir in his chair, and the Master's breathing became, ever so slightly, more ragged. He wanted to leave. He needed to leave. But he could not, so he stayed perfectly still, trying to calm himself. It wasn't working.

Unbeknownst to the Master, the Doctor had noticed the minuscule change in breathing. He began to watch him more closely now, wondering profoundly what had happened in his mind to trigger such a reaction. It could have been any number of things. Silently the Doctor scolded himself. He kept thinking of the Master as if he were his friend, not his prisoner. That seemed to be a profusely bad habit of his.

A shudder went through the body of the man laying down. The Doctor became worried. While he may not have been on friendship terms with the Master, he still cared about him as much as everything else in the universe. He wished he would feel the same way about him.

"Master?" The Doctor's voice was soft, tender, questioning. It was barely louder than a whisper.

The Master wanted to rip out his hair. Why would that man never stop?

The Doctor spoke the same word once more, the same way as the first time. "Master?"

"Shut up!" The words came out forcefully and harsh, the exact way the Master had intended them to. If he could have anything he wanted at that moment besides freedom, it would be shoving the Doctor out of the TARDIS doors.

Unfortunately, the warden had not been phased by the prisoner's rude statement, and continued to press. "You're acting strange," He stated quietly, his voice filled with an overwhelming amount of pertinence and kindness.

The sickness the Master had felt was fading away. He sat straight up and looked the Doctor in the eye. "Well maybe I don't enjoy being held prisoner in your bloody TARDIS."

The Doctor's look turned into something that could be described as a light sternness. "I didn't mean it like that."

The Master did not reply, instead he pulled the covers back over himself and lay flat on the bed once again, throwing the comforter over his head.

"I know," came the muffled reply from underneath the white heap. The Doctor did not press the subject any further.


	6. Chapter 6

The Doctor stayed in the room all night, sitting in the chair next to the soft bed as the Master drifted in and out of a restless sleep, each time he came to consciousness he wished for morning to come, so he could escape the Doctor breathing on his neck, his brown eyes drilling into him even from under the comforter.

The Doctor stood up from his chair as quietly as he could, but this did not prevent the Master from opening his eyes. They were greeted by nothing but darkness, and he began to feel very stuffy underneath the heavy blanket. As soon as he heard the footsteps of the Doctor fade away he threw the covers off of his head and took a relieving breath of chilly air.

Suddenly he felt very uncomfortable. He had been in the same outfit for quite sometime, had slept in it, even. He felt revolted by the thought of being so filthy, so he threw the comforter on the floor and stood up on the gray carpet, looking around the room, whose door stood ajar, once again. The Doctor really needed to stop _doing_ that.

The Master gazed at the clothes he had scattered across the floor, that now lay there, forgotten. He picked up some of the things the Doctor had laid out and looked them over. Jeans and T-Shirts, of course. No smart looking suits. No fancy blazers. Jeans. And T-Shirts.

 _Just jolly._

He selected a pair of darker colored jeans from the floor, along with a blue shirt and black pull-over hoodie. Suddenly he realized that when he had first arrived in the cushiony room he had not noticed a bathroom. No, there had not even been a bathroom. But of course, there was one now. A door had appeared in the corner sometime while his back was turned. A new room created just for him.

 _What a joy._

He went into the bathroom and locked the door with a small _click_ before taking off his clothes and getting in the shower, washing his short brown hair, much more violently than was necessary.

Feeling refreshed when he got out, he dried himself properly before putting on the clothes he had gotten from the pitiful collection the Doctor had supplied and then smoothing down his hair with a comb he had found behind the sink mirror.

The Master had unlocked the door and was about to open it but his hand faltered, instead, it simply grasping the doorknob lightly. He did not want to open the door and be greeted by the Doctor on the other side. No, all he wanted was to indulge in what little privacy he still had and sit, alone.

Taking a deep breath, the Master opened the door. Nothing was waiting for him on the other side of it, like he had expected. _Good_ , was the first thought that went through his head as he went to once again collapse on the bed. The peacefulness was short lived.

In walked the Doctor, a platter in his hand and that expression of tender pity on his face that the Master hated so much... But the food smelled good.

It turned out to be an omelet with bacon and toast. The Doctor had brought himself a cup of tea, but gave the Master a glass of water. The Master accepted the food without comment and sat down on his bed, crossing his legs indian-style. He picked at his food with a fork, occasionally fitting pieces of it into his mouth. The Doctor sat in the same chair he had spent the night in. The Master did not look up the the Time Lord sitting beside him, instead he focused intently at the meal that was sitting in the lap of his legs, which were still crossed like a child's.

The Master was about to fork another mouthful of egg into his mouth when-

"Did you sleep well?" His voice was the same quiet tone as it had been most of the day before.

The Master put the fork down on his plate with a clatter of metal on glass and starred at the Doctor with his head tilted far to the right and let out an over exaggerated sigh. His expression was clear. _What do you think?_

The Doctor looked down at his shoes. He had not yet touched the food he had brought for himself, but he had taken a few sips of the tea.

The Master watched him for a few seconds more before looking back at his own plate and picking up his fork. He finished off the eggs and moved on to eating the bacon, wishing the Doctor would stop watching him.

But the Doctor did not, and time dragged on. Even after the Master set his empty plate on the floor, laid on his stomach, and then screamed into his pillow, the Doctor did not leave.

Finally, the Master could not longer take the burning silence.

"Why can't you put me in some high security Earthling prison?" He spat the words out of his mouth like venom. They sounded dangerous.

The Doctor met the other Time Lord's brown eyes. "Because you would escape." His voice had a small hint of matter-of-factness.

"No I wouldn't." The Master retaliated, and he sat up on his bed, indian-crossing his legs once more.

"Yes, you would," The Doctor said firmly, his eyebrows raised just the slightest.

"And how do you know that?" The Master snapped the words angrily at his captor. He was getting tired of the conversation they were having, and wished he had not started it in the first place.

"Because you're brilliant. You can escape from anywhere or anyone, I've seen you do it." The Doctor was still starring into the eyes of the other man. His voice still had the tender, caring tone it usually held when speaking to his captive.

The Master scoffed. "No, Doctor. I can't seem to escape from you."


End file.
